


Do You Wanna Touch Me?

by typoqueen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Archangel Gabriel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Flirts With Reader, Extreme levels of sass, F/M, Fingering, Flirty Dean Winchester, Gabriel - Freeform, Hair Pulling, Playful Dean Winchester, Playful Sex, Reader is a stripper, Sam Winchester gets schooled, Sam Winchester is a Little Shit, Sam Winchester walks in on them, Sass, Scratching, Sort Of, Stripper, Trickster Gabriel (Supernatural), Unprotected Sex, cherry pie, in which the reader is a badass, lap dance, sort of caught in the act, strip club, tease, universe hopping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-07 18:41:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19090855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typoqueen/pseuds/typoqueen
Summary: Dean thinks he's hit the jackpot when he finds the most rock and roll stripper he's ever known, only to discover she's been forced into this universe by some cruel twist of fate. Will he help her get back? Or will he succumb to temptation and keep her in his universe forever?





	1. Do You Wanna Touch Me?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [awkwardsloth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardsloth/gifts).



> The idea for this fic was prompted by awkwardsloth, who has some absolutely incredible ideas. I've been in a writing rut for a long time, but thanks to their prompts I'm gonna be writing forever... 
> 
> Please enjoy, and do comment if you have any other prompts you'd like me to write!

The only thing Dean wanted after a hard week of vamp-hunting was a relaxing evening fulfilling his basest desires. He'd neglected himself for the whole week, and now, with a beer in hand and a sexy girl dancing in front of him, he felt like everything was right in the world. The stripper on stage finished her routine, collecting all her tips before slinking off backstage. Dean gave a satisfied smile, chugging on his beer and sitting back in his seat. He thought about Sam missing out on this, but realised Sam probably wouldn't enjoy this at all. 

The Winchesters had been rubbing each other the wrong way this week; Sam was intent on something Dean couldn't understand, and Dean was intent on destroying the vamps. Whatever Sam had going on, Dean had tried to care about it, but just couldn't bring himself to prioritise the drama over the hunt they were on. He imagined Sam was back at the motel, researching or reading some boring book. Dean was pulled from these thoughts suddenly, and pleasantly, by a song pumping out of the speakers that he hadn't heard for quite some time.

The next stripper was striding on stage in time to the beat of 'Do You Wanna Touch Me' by Joan Jett, mouthing along to the words and kicking up a real storm on stage. She was entertaining for the sheer enjoyment of it, unlike the other dancers who were more serious with their song choices. The stripper owned the stage, stomping around in six-inch heels and pointing into the audience, making each and every onlooker wish they were actually, in fact, touching her 'there'. By the end of her routine, Dean was rapt, staring up at her in awe and admiration. Now that was entertainment. He watched her leave the stage, eyeing up the black leather shorts which left little to the imagination; her butt was just as stellar as her performance. 

Finishing his beer, Dean headed over to the bar to buy a fresh one. The bartender smiled at him, retrieving a new bottle from the fridge behind the bar and sliding it across to Dean, who picked it up eagerly and began to sip. Just then, Dean noticed a woman had sidled up to him, taking a seat on the barstool next to him. He looked her over, and noted how different she looked in regular clothes, like a different person to who he'd just seen prancing around on stage. Unable to control himself, he grinned, leaning onto the bar to bring his face closer to hers.

"Well, hey there, tiny dancer,” he chuckled, offering a flirtatious smile and a slight cock of the eyebrows.

“I never pegged you for an Elton John fan,” the dancer retorted, smirking back up at him. 

“What do you have me pegged as?” Dean asked her, amused because he was definitely not thinking about pegging in the other sense of the word at all… 

“A classic rock purist who looks down on the pop genre as a whole, but who secretly loves Taylor Swift’s Shake It Out,” she replied, shooting him a confident and knowing smirk. 

Dean was taken aback by how accurate her analysis was, somewhere between shocked and seriously turned on. The hunter stared into her eyes and grinned.  
“You’re something else,” he remarked. “You’d better tell me your name and let me buy you a drink so we can cheers to that.”

“Round here everyone calls me Jett,” she answered him with a little laugh that sent his groin into ‘definitely awake’ mode. “But it’s actually Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, it would seem this is my lucky night. You were incredible up there. A true credit to your profession. How’d you come up with that, then? Not a lot of strippers would go for such a bold choice of music. I’m Dean, by the way,” he drawled out, talking low and slow and holding her gaze with green eyes that held promises of pleasures she could only dream of. 

“I know,” she said simply. “That’s why I came over here.”

Dean’s heart sank. Whatever filthy things he was imagining doing to this Jett girl were abruptly pushed out of his mind. More sinister possibilities wracked his brain; demon, shapeshifter, siren - she could have been any number of nasties that wanted to hunt him down and toy with him. Y/N could sense the shift in his thinking.

“Whoa, boy. It’s not like that, I swear. Look, I need your help. I wasn’t certain when I first arrived here, but now I’ve seen you I know for sure. I’ve been sent from an alternate reality, and you and Sam are probably the only ones who can actually help me.”

“You what?” Dean blurted out, incredulously. He would have thought she was crazy if he didn’t know these things to be possible himself. “Forgive me for being callous, but if you want our help, you’d better be able to prove you’re not a demon or something else. I’m assuming you know a lot more than a regular stripper.”

“Sure,” Y/N said, picking up a salt shaker from the bar and pouring some into her hand. “Salted, and not a demon. Take me back to your motel and get your silver knife out if you want. The whole shebang - I can definitely prove I’m not a threat to you.”

The hunter’s stomach twisted in knots, imagining that wouldn’t be the only thing he did to her if he took her back to his motel. He was caught between being incredibly attracted to her and needing to be cautious. The beers had made him less inhibited and he decided, somewhat drunkenly, that he’d just have to take her word for it until he got her back to the motel room.

“Fine,” he said with a husky voice, conveying his disappointment that this wouldn’t be a cut-and-dry exchange with Y/N, that he wouldn’t have the absolute pleasure of bedding her on this occasion. Nothing was simple any more, and certainly nothing was fun either.

*****

On the ride back to Dean’s motel, Y/N’s mind raced, thinking of all the hassle she’d been through to get to this point. Finally, she’d found someone who could actually help her. Or who would at least try to help her. All she wanted was to get back to her own universe, one in which vampires didn’t actually exist and demons were all trapped in Hell where they belonged. Once they’d got back to the motel, performed the necessary checks, and confirmed you were actually human, Dean whistled through his teeth and sank into one of the chairs at the table. Sam wasn’t there for some reason, and Y/N made a mental note to ask about that later.

“C’mon then, give me the spiel,” Dean instructed, wishing inside that it was all just a joke and Y/N was actually just another hunter messing with him to get into his bed. That would be a nice turn of events.

“I honestly don’t know what happened. I was minding my own business at work one day, then there was a bright flash and all of a sudden I was here. And it smelled different; I could just tell I wasn’t in my world any more. I was somewhere else. It wasn’t until tonight I figured out I was in your universe. Which is crazy - I had no idea this was even possible.”

“A lot of things are possible, Y/N, but they don’t just happen for no reason,” Dean stated, feeling a bit on edge. “Tell me, what exactly is the difference between our universes?”

“Well, for a start, Supernatural things don’t exist. No hunters, no vampires or demons, no angels. It’s all make believe. Or I guess, maybe stories of them travelled from your reality into mine. We certainly know about you and Sam, though. You boys have your own TV show.”

“A TV show!?” Dean was flabbergasted, his mouth hanging open a little in shock.

“Uh, yeah… I’m a pretty big fan. I know all about you, Dean. I know about your past, I know about your future. It’s pretty weird I ended up at this point in your timeline - I’m guessing we’re in season four - but I’ll take it. And don’t worry, no spoilers - cross my heart,” she promised, gesturing with a cross over your chest.

“You know all about me? Season four!? This is a lot to take in...” Dean paused, and Y/N remained quiet, allowing him some time to process everything. He kept thinking there was something about this chick that was similar to Chuck. What if she was a prophet of some kind, and he needed to protect her? There were a million questions he needed to ask, but for some reason, the only one he could get out was: “Were you a stripper in your universe as well?”

Y/N laughed from deep in her belly, throwing her head back with a vigour that Dean found almost irresistible. The dancer couldn’t stop laughing, not simply at the question - it was a valid one - but that it was the first one Dean asked in that instance.

“Wow, Dean. Never out of character, are you?” Y/N giggled again, nudging his knee under the table with hers. “No, I wasn’t a stripper there. But when I realised I wasn’t in my reality, I had to get creative. No ID, no social security, no nothing. What other profession would hire me? Besides, I like to entertain.”

“And you’re pretty damn good at it,” Dean said with a grin. Despite the craziness of what Y/N was telling him, there was that deep, primal urge in him that refused to let him stop thinking about getting her in his bed. “Wanna give me a private dance?” He asked, half joking.

The sensible part of Y/N knew she had to get on with finding a way home, but the reckless part just didn’t care in that particular second. It wasn’t like the opportunity to meet - and potentially make out with - Dean frickin’ Winchester came around too often.

“I do wanna…” she replied in a hushed tone, standing from her seat at the table. “But you’ve gotta promise you’ll help me get home.” 

Nodding his head in a silent agreement, Dean grinned with wide eyes as he watched Y/N saunter over to him. It really was his lucky night.

With no music on, the dancer began to move her body, hips rolling and hair swishing. She removed her thin sweater, throwing it across the room and then staring into Dean’s green eyes. They lit up, urging her on. The next article to come off was the pair of jeans that had been hugging her curves so delightfully. She undid the button slowly, rhythmically circling her hips and shuffling the denim down her legs. Y/N’s shirt came off next, which she threw over Dean’s head so he couldn’t seen her standing there in her underwear.

Dean ripped the shirt off of his face, eager to see Y/N’s body, but she had moved behind him now. She draped her arms around his shoulders from behind, unbuttoning his shirt for him slowly, still dancing away behind him. She let him feel her breasts pushing up against the side of his head, and then wriggled around him as her dance wound on. Dean sighed, one of his hands in a fist on his knee, aching with desire for this literally otherworldly woman.

With a dip of her upper body, Y/N bent over in front of Dean, one hand on her ass. She looked over her shoulder to see his expression of utter joy, pleased that he was enjoying himself. Her thumb hooked under the side of her thong and gave it a tug, teasingly insinuating that she would take it off. She left it in place, however, and her hands traveled up her back to the clasp of her bra, which came free under her hand.

“Turn around, baby,” Dean growled, barely able to contain himself, reaching out to try and touch her.

“Ah-ah,” Y/N replied, batting his hands away. “I didn’t call for any audience participation just yet.” She chided him with a flick of her hair as she turned, painfully slowly. One hand was holding her bra in place while the other trailed across her body. The seconds dragged out so long, but eventually her dance had her throwing the bra to one side and revealing her breasts to a completely awestruck Dean.

“God dammit,” he drawled, reaching out to grab Y/N’s hand. He pulled her closer, a slave to this temptation now. Before he could do anything else, the dancer had put one of her legs over Dean’s and leaned in close. Her thigh was pushed up against his crotch, and they were both aware of his raging erection. Y/N’s dance brought her snaking downwards until she was straddling Dean’s right thigh, her left hand on his chest. 

“You are one of a kind,” he muttered, looking into her eyes with a fervid intensity. Dean put his hands on her hips, feeling the smooth skin beneath his fingertips.

“Well, I could say the same to you,’ Y/N replied, smirking at him. She was grateful that she was confident enough to do something like that, and also astounded that she’d actually managed to do it without stumbling or making a fool of herself. “Dean, you have no idea how sexy you are.”

“Likewise, sweetheart,” he whispered, pulling her leg over his other thigh so she was straddling him completely on the chair now. “Hold on.” Dean lifted her up, holding onto her ass so he could carry her over to the bed and throw her down onto the mattress. He looked down at her hungrily as he unbuttoned his jeans and shirt, making quick work of his unwanted clothing. Their clothes were in a heap on the floor, as if they’d always been there. 

Both hunter and dancer were in their final piece of clothing now, their most private parts hidden from view. But not for long as Y/N was reaching up to yank down Dean’s boxer shorts, freeing his cock which bounced deliciously, throbbing and leaking with his arousal. She let out a moan of anticipation, already imagining the sensation of him pushing his cock into her tight pussy.

Dean pulled harshly at Y/N’s underwear, literally tearing it at the seams and tossing the scrap of useless fabric to one side. He raked his fingers down her hips and thighs, roaming to the inside of her legs so he could push them apart. Revealing Y/N’s wet and ready pussy just about did him in, rolling his eyes back and growling with restraint, Dean knew he had definitely hit the jackpot. His left hand went to his throbbing dick, giving himself a few heavy strokes while his other hand went to Y/N’s dripping opening. 

A strong finger circled Y/N’s tight hole, teasing her with the promise of penetration, and then taking it away so he could rub her sensitive clit instead. The dancer squirmed underneath his touch, letting out little playful moans and grabbing fistfuls of bedsheets. She gasped when he finally pushed a finger into her, deeply massaging the tight walls of her pussy. She pushed her hips towards him, blindly following his touch to deepen the sensation. Dean added another finger, and then forced another into her cunt as well. Y/N was too tight to accommodate three fingers usually, but Dean had made her so wet that he could slide them into her anyway, stretching her hole deliciously, getting her ready for the girth of his cock.

“You want my dick, don’t you, Y/N?” Dean said softly, but surely. There was such a delicate tone to his voice, caring and attentive and yet assertive as well. 

“No,” Y/N said jokingly. “I just thought I’d get you to this point and then leave you high and dry,” she teased, wriggling away from his fingers and further up the bed. 

Dean gave her a hurt look, like she was breaking his little hunter heart. “You wouldn’t dare,” he hissed back playfully. 

“Just kidding… I need your cock, Dean,” she pleaded with him, looking up with adorable puppy-dog eyes that melted Dean from the inside out. 

“Ugh, you are abominable,” he grunted, covering Y/N’s body with his own, pressing himself against her, one hand going up to brush her hair out of her face. “Abominably perfect.”

Then with a quick, strong tug, Dean pulled the dancer’s body around so she was lying on her front. The hunter lined up his cock with Y/N slick entrance, teasing her for a second before sliding himself home inside her. He would have teased her for longer to pay her back for messing with him, but he couldn’t actually manage it. She was just too irresistible.

Y/N moaned underneath Dean, pushing up with her hips and arching her back to give him the deepest possible access. The hunter was filling her pussy, sliding slowly in and out, letting his balls slap noisily against her. They were a mess of limbs and moans and gripping fingers, writhing in ecstasy on the motel bed. Dean’s right hand held onto Y/N’s waist but his left hand went to her hair, weaving a fistful of it around his knuckles. 

“May I?” He asked, wanting to know she was okay with him yanking her hair.

“Oh, please fucking do,” she moaned into the mattress, clenching her muscles around Dean’s cock.

With a deep groan, he pulled her hair, fucking into her like she was going to disappear at any minute. His thrusts deepened and sped up, slamming into her cunt and pulling her head back with fervour and determination. Y/N screamed with pleasure, completely lost in the sensation of Dean taking her from behind and somehow owning her when they’d only just met. It was sweet that he asked her permission, but she knew deep down he didn’t need to. She would have let him do anything to her.

Dean could feel that his dancer needed her release, so he let go of her hair and slid a hand underneath her, instantly finding her hard little clit, which was begging for attention. He rubbed against it with the tips of his fingers, pushing her over the edge in a matter of seconds. He felt her cunt tighten with her orgasm, and heard her cry out his name in a guttural wail of gratification. 

“Dean! Oh my -- god, Dean--” Y/N howled, her hips bucking and sending Dean into his own spiral of euphoria. 

“Ugh, I’m gonna cum--” He warned her, digging fingernails into her back. “I’m gonna cum inside you!”

The Winchester’s cock twitched inside her, and he buried it as deep as he could to unleash rope after rope of hot, sticky hunter cum into Y/N’s delightful little pussy. He groaned, closing his eyes against the overwhelming sense of intoxication. Y/N moaned again, a high pitched sound of pure joy that Dean had chosen to spend himself inside her, an absolute honour in her eyes. 

The hunter held her close, reluctant to remove his cock from her cunt because he irrationally feared she would vanish from beneath his hot and bothered body. He was sweating with the exertion of their fucking, but neither of them cared. Dean collapsed onto his side, pulling Y/N backward so he could spoon her close and keep his dick inside her, even as it softened. They panted together, and soon felt Dean’s spendings and Y/N’s own cum dripping out of her stretched hole, sliding in little rivulets over her butt cheeks and Dean’s crotch, landing to make a wet patch on the bed. 

“You know, I’ve always wanted to fuck an alien,” he teased the dancer from another world.

“I’m not an alien,” she laughed, turning over so she could push him in the shoulder. “I’m just a human from a different universe.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean retorted sarcastically. “You’re an alien and you’ve come here to probe me, you weirdo!” He joked with her, grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head. They laughed together, and Y/N pushed one of her legs between Dean’s to tangle them up again. He looked down at her, grinning, and imagined how long he could get her to stay in his bed for.

Just at that second, the door swung open abruptly and the naked lovers were met with noises of complaint as the younger Winchester brother intruded, quite accidentally, on their moment. The sight of their tangled naked bodies, the pile of clothes on the floor, and the smell of sex in the air made Sam extremely uncomfortable.

“Jesus, Dean, you could have put the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door,” Sam berated, turning around and covering his eyes. “C’mon, get dressed - we need to go.”

Dean panicked, and couldn’t respond with anything but a shrug and an apologetic look down at Y/N, who chuckled and spoke for them instead, her feminine voice sounding confident and demanding.

“Actually, Sam, I kinda need your help with something.”


	2. Take On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader takes a minute to school Sam Winchester on the male gaze, while Dean watches in barely hidden delight. The trio get to work, but beer and pie take precedent. Casual flirting and naughty thoughts ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to name each chapter after an 80s song... A-ha's 'Take On Me' seemed fitting, since this feisty stripper ain't letting Sammy get the best of her. This was fun to write, trying to keep the chemistry between Dean & his new lady friend without letting the story dissolve into porn without plot. Hopefully I did it well - enjoy!

After Dean and Y/N had dressed themselves and freshened up a little, the three of them sat round the table with cups of coffee as Y/N explained, once again, what the situation was. Dean was able to vouch for her not being any sort of ‘monster-of-the-week’, and Sam made up his own mind about what sort of person she was. He could tell, for example, that she was, at the very least, a decent human being and really did need their help. He also believed, like Dean did, that she was somehow related to Chuck. Nobody could tell them things about their past and future like that without somehow being important. Either she was a prophet, an avid reader of Chuck’s books (and future unpublished editions), or she was telling the truth about being from a different universe.

“Let’s say for a moment that we believe you,” Sam said. “What exactly do you expect us to do about it?”

“Look, I know you boys have connections, Sam. I know about the angels and demons you’ve both worked with…” Y/N gave Sam a pointed glance with the word ‘worked’; she knew exactly how hard he’d worked with Ruby. “Someone in your rolodex must have some sort of answer.”

“We can ask around, for sure,” Dean interjected. “But I don’t think we can promise anything at this point.”

The stripper looked at Dean and smiled, taking a long sip of her coffee as she looked at him. There was a hint of flirtation as she sipped, and an almost knowing look in her eyes that said ‘I’m not finished with you yet, hunter’. The corner of Dean’s mouth twitched in response, able but unwilling to flirt back while his younger brother was being so serious. Sam saw this and shook his head, ready to get back on the offensive.

“And let me get something straight, Y/N. You got zapped to an entirely different universe, with a whole reality’s worth of options, and you chose to become a stripper?” The disgust in his voice wasn’t nearly as subtle as he thought it was. 

Y/N seethed, almost ready to rise from the table and take on the younger Winchester in a bout of feminist fisticuffs that would leave him wondering whether he deserved to touch another woman ever again. She swallowed her anger, and instead used the energy to turn it into a response that he might be able to understand.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do? Strip joints don’t ask questions, and they certainly don’t demand two forms of ID in the ‘interview’. It’s not like I can get a job at Chick-Fil-A without my birth certificate or a social security number! And, Mr Winchester, I’ll have you know that as a law-abiding citizen, I do not know how to forge a driver’s license like you ass-hats. You expect me to pull those vital documents out my ass?!” Y/N’s tone grew more animated as she went on, which elicited varied responses from the Winchester brothers. Dean watched in awe while Sam’s eyes widened, shocked that he was being reprimanded by a woman.

“And yes, I am a stripper. I earn a living by dancing to sensual music. Which is a damn sight better than stealing, and infinitely more lucrative than begging. Probably more morally sound than killing old rich guys for their fortunes. So drop that judgmental tone, Sam, because no matter how I dress, or how I behave, or what I do to earn money, my body will always - ALWAYS - be subject to the male gaze. So if I can use that to my advantage and earn money so I can eat and sleep with a roof over my head, then you bet your ass I’m going to do it. It’s 2019, Sam. Time to stop slut-shaming and start some slut-appreciation.”  
Dean Winchester sat with a smug, almost euphoric little grin on his face, eyeing his brother and relishing in the absolute glory that was Y/N’s little rant. The beautiful, sexy, intelligent woman he’d just had the honour of fucking was kick-ass. He almost couldn’t believe the truth-bomb take-down she’d bestowed upon Sam, but he was here for it. He watched Sam’s face twist from open-mouthed, borderline-brain-dead stupor to a thin-lipped, shifty look of guilt, shame, and most of all, embarrassment. 

Sam cleared his throat tentatively.

“I, uh… You’re right. Apologies,” the younger hunter said. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. I’m glad you managed to find a way to survive here.”

“No harm done,” the dancer said with a smile. “But maybe now you’ll think about things before you say stuff.”

“Right. Sure. But, uh… It’s not 2019 here. So I guess you went back in time as well as through different universes. I wonder what has the power to do that…”

After the initial shock of her outburst had worn off, Sam and Y/N buckled down to do some research while Dean went to make a few phone calls. Y/N had never considered that she might one day be part of an investigation with the Winchesters, these hunters whom she admired so much through TV screens and internet memes. It was a secret fantasy she’d had since she watched the first ever season, but not something she really thought about too often. If she could have chosen any other reason to need their services, she would have been happy about it. It was just unfortunate that she happened to be stranded.

“So, uh. I spoke to Bobby and he says he’ll ask around. But likelihood is angels. Can’t think of anything else who’d do this,” Dean stated as he came back in the room, holding up bags from a local grocery store. “But I got food, so it’s all good.”

“Oh, please tell me you got pie?” Y/N asked with an expectant grin on her face, all but jumping out of her seat at the sight of food. She was starving, having not eaten since way before her shift at the strip joint.

Dean’s heart skipped a beat; this woman just knew no bounds when it came to impressing him. The hunter winked at her, pulling out a whole cherry pie and putting it in the middle of the table. Y/N eyed it hungrily, but didn’t want to jump on it before Dean had a chance to unpack the rest of the food. She helped him unpack the bags while Sam watched, waiting for something healthier to manifest itself from Dean’s shopping. Dean put a few beers on the table, and the rest of the food crammed in the mini fridge. Y/N casually bumped him with her hip, shooting him a wicked smile before she bent down to put the last of the beers in the fridge. Dean bit his lip, imagining Y/N on the back seat of the Impala, steaming up the windows and calling out his name as he made her cum again and again and again -- but he remembered where they were, and forced himself to turn away.

“Aaaaand, a salad for Mr Healthy over here,” Dean joked, handing his brother a rather pathetic looking egg salad. “S’all they had, leaf-wise. Bon appetit.”

They ate, Dean and Y/N splitting the pie with two forks and no plates (pie straight from the box tastes better, it’s science), drank beer, and talked for hours about what to do. Y/N was glad to have met the Winchesters, but something told her it would be wrong to stay here. It wasn’t meant to be a permanent thing. She knew she had to eventually go home, back to her old life, and they would have to go on saving the world. If she was right about what point in their timeline she had landed, they were about to face Lilith, the apocalypse, and Lucifer. She couldn’t get in the way of all that.

But how she wished, deep down -- so deep she wasn’t even aware of it -- that she could stay. She could bake homemade pies for Dean to come home to, relish in his eyes drinking her in, listen to his voice as he recounted tales of their hunts. He could teach her how to shoot a gun, how to fight, how to survive like a Winchester. Y/N could so easily stay, if only she would close off her mind to the desire to go home and focus on that deep, aching, longing that pulled in her lower stomach and coiled in her belly. A beast had awakened in her, one that had lain dormant until Dean Winchester woke it up with his deliciousness. She wanted to roll her hips against his, run her hands through his hair as he pressed himself between her legs, and kiss his lips, breathing her desire into him… 

Realising she was lost in her thoughts, Y/N snapped out of it and crossed her legs, very aware she was just starting to get wet.

“There’s someone else we hadn’t thought of… Someone who we really know very little about,” Sam said, pointing his beer towards Y/N with a thoughtful expression on his face. “The Trickster. What if he did this?”

“Is he that powerful, though? To bend time and space? This isn’t Doctor Who,” Dean laughed, imagining them being swept away in the TARDIS. “Nahhhh.”

“I mean, it’s possible,” Y/N replied, knowing full well that the Trickster wasn’t at all just a trickster. But the Winchesters hadn’t got that far yet. “You should ask him. Do you know how to summon him?” She asked them the question as if she didn’t know the answer, but deep in her mind she started praying. 

The dancer had never been religious. Back in her universe, it was optional. She didn’t need to believe in God or the devil, because life was what she made it. No demons or angels to preside over good and evil, nobody to hear any prayers or make deals with. So this was, perhaps, the first time she’d ever prayed. She wasn’t sure if she was doing it right at first, but she kept going. To the Winchesters, she looked like she was deep in thought, just playing with half a cherry on the empty pie box, pushing it around with her fork. But in her mind, she was picturing him - Gabriel - and praying he would hear her. She knew that usually summoning an archangel took a serious amount of preparation, a ritual, incantations and the like, but she had an inkling that if he was behind this then he would be listening out for her.

A few minutes passed and nothing happened.

Eventually, the Winchesters decided they needed some sleep, and Y/N agreed, offering to sleep on the sofa so it wouldn’t be weird. The brothers protested, both offering to give up their bed, but she insisted, and they all settled down for the night. 

Half an hour later, and Y/N knew she wasn’t getting to sleep on the sofa. She quietly rose, dropping her blanket to the floor, and made her way across the room to Dean’s bed. Poking him in the shoulder, she tried to rouse the sleeping hunter to no avail. She pulled back the covers slightly and leaned down to whisper to him to wake up, take a walk with her, anything. And Dean was just fluttering open his pretty green eyes, when a voice made damn sure all of them were wide awake.

“Aww, hey guys! Long time no see. Ready to play some more of my little game?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you've enjoyed this little tale, there will be more chapters to follow! Please leave a comment if you have any other prompts you'd like me to fulfil!


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